Word: wee
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...Wednesday night—the night that the What? closed out—Pat was in for double misery. Not only did he have to deal with “asshole” Crimson editors and their inability to get the paper out before the wee hours of the morning, but he also had the “fuckin’ albatross around his neck” (one of his choicest descriptions of the Mag) which guaranteed that he wouldn’t leave the building until dawn. I remember standing on the filthy and entirely precarious landing...
...played briefly for Toledo of the then major American Association in 1884, blacks were subsequently barred from playing big-league ball for the next 63 years. Branch Rickey, the most eloquent of baseball men, brought Jackie Robinson to the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1947. Rickey and the Dodgers' captain, Pee Wee Reese, lent magnificent support to Robinson, the pioneer. Others did not. Several Dodgers demanded to be traded, rather than play on a fine team beside a black...
...Hockey spread beyond our room, as blockmates and neighbors wanted to know what all that noise was (someone thought we were “shooting small animals”). The constant clatter of plastic sticks on wood and our own cursing often carries on into the wee hours of the morning. I even brought Nok Hockey to the Crimson one night...
...just much less talking involved. Its about being sprawled out on a shag rug, being exposed to Scammons music (Scammon maintains an impressive library of funk CDs) as a band. I think a lot of the stuff we play is due to the shared experience there in the wee hours of the night. There is this spontaneous thing that other guests can think is rude, but well sometimes all just stop. Our eyes all glaze over, and we cant continue our conversations because an amazing thing just went on in the music...
...grew up a block from a major university, constantly hearing my father badmouth the students who surrounded us. They hosted loud parties that lasted till the wee hours, crammed the streets with too many cars, drove the rents up by packing into small apartments and just generally didn’t care about our community. As students moved in, families moved out, and the neighborhood took on a transient character. “Student” sounds like an insult in my father’s mouth; he spits it out as though no further explanation were needed...